


By Any Other Name

by RickylLover



Category: The Walking Dead, The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Comforting Rick, Exhaustion for RWG bingo, Hurt Daryl, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mentions of past abuse without description, Rickyl Relationship - Freeform, Rickyl Writer's Group, Rickyl Writers' Group Bingo 2016, Rickyl from Carl's POV, Rickyl in love, Secret Relationship, fear of losing someone, prison era
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-07
Updated: 2016-10-26
Packaged: 2018-08-13 11:26:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7975165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RickylLover/pseuds/RickylLover
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Daryl is like a second dad to Carl. Family. So, when Daryl is out on a run or hunting Carl worries about him, just like his dad does.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Daryl

**Author's Note:**

> I know I should get back to updating my regular ongoing fics, but this just came out of nowhere. Hope it is ok...Please let me know what you think.

     When Papa's out on a run or hunting I like to go up in the guard tower. Watch for him to come back. I still call him Daryl, though. Even though he's like a second dad. Mostly because they think I don't know they're together. And, Daryl never calls his dad anything other than his "old man," when he talks about him. Never his dad, or anything like that. And, I wouldn't either if I had one like his.

     So, I just call him Daryl and wait. They'll tell me when they're ready, I guess. Or maybe they're waiting until they think _I'm_ ready. But, I've seen shit. Done shit. I'm not a kid anymore. Maybe they just don't want me to feel like it's anything against Mom.

     I love my mom and I know she loved us. But, she wasn't in love with Dad for a long time. They just tried to make it work. For me. But, it didn't. Hadn't for years. And I know she was with Shane. They think I don't, but I do. She was happy with Shane, before Dad came back. In a way she never was with him.

     But, that's the way it was. And, just because she's gone now doesn't make it any less true. Anyway, Dad's happy with Daryl. In a way he never was with Mom. They move like they choreograph everything. They talk without speaking. And, I don't even know if they do more than actually sleep when they're in bed together, but I know they're in love. And I know Daryl loves Judy and me like we were his own.

     So, when I see him in the distance I'm glad he's on his way home. And as much as I've enjoyed talking with Michonne and sharing a way too stale Twix bar I just want to climb down the ladder and hug my papa. But, my excitement turns to dread when Michonne stiffens beside me seeing him through binoculars.

     "Oh my God," she croaks out. And when adults say shit like that it's never good.

     My stomach drops. And I feel the chocolate coming back up. "What's wrong?" I'm already on the ladder. Going down. And either she doesn't answer me or I just can't hear. I'm not sure what I fear more. But, I'm on the ground and running to the gate.

     Carol is just in front of me. Crying. She'd been in the other tower. We're sprinting shoulder to shoulder now. The binoculars hanging around her neck make me afraid of what they've seen.

     It feels like forever before we get to the gate. Like running through wet cement that keeps slowing me down even more as it dries. But, then I see him. Staggering. And covered in blood. Soaking his hair. His sleeveless shirt and ripped jeans.

     "Are you okay?" I screamed. And I might have called him Papa. Out loud. But, either he didn't notice or it didn't bother him. Or he's dead and turned and just returning to where he knows. My heart breaks at that. Life without Papa. What that would do to my dad. To Judith. To me...

     One of the Woodbury men catches up. Gun aimed at Papa's head like he's thinking it, too. And it makes me so mad and sick I knock him down. On his ass. Before he knows what hit him. It would have been okay if it had been anyone else...but it was Papa. And that guy doesn't know Papa. Doesn't love him. Doesn't have the right.

     "Keep away from him," I spit. Tears and snot flying. Because, I've started crying. I don't even know when. Probably when Michonne tensed beside me in the tower.

  Carol's tugging on the gate. Hysterical. I don't even know if it is her or me that keeps screaming, no, no, no. I go to help her. Leaving that asshole on the ground. He must have reached for his gun again, because Michonne has caught up and punched him in the face. And he just crawls away.

     "Settle down, 'm alright," Papa says. Waving a weary hand as he slips in the crack we made in the fence. "Don't need no damn welcome wagon." He fends off everyone, but me. It's only then I realize how many people have come to the fenceline.

     "But, Daryl," Carol tries to support him. From his other side. But, he just leans on me. His arm is stiff around her. She probably thinks it's injured. But, I know why. "You're covered in blood, let's get you to Hershel." She's touching him all over, but he's flinching and I can feel it.

     "Not m' blood," Daryl grunts. Pulling me close. "Don't need ta be babied." I can feel his steps are labored as we push through the crowd. But, he doesn't stop. And I know he's going to find my dad. "Blood's from m' deer," he let me slip his crossbow off his shoulder and leaned back into me. Not Carol. "Walkers fuckin' got it." He looked like they almost got him, too.

     People suddenly went from grabbing at him and asking questions to parting like the Red Sea. And then I see my dad. Running to Daryl. Dirty from the garden. And I think there are more tears than sweat on his face as he slams into us. He actually knocks us down into a heap. Clutching at Daryl. And I remember the first time he saw me. When he found us at the quarry.

     "Jesus, Grimes, weren't gone that long," Daryl gruffs. But, his lips are quirked into the smallest of grins. And his fingers are dug into my dad's hair and shirt like he's his lifeline. And I know it's because he truly is.

     Dad gets to his knees. Pats Daryl for injuries. Bites. Staring him in the face. And they're saying a hundred things in their secret, silent language. _I thought I'd lost you. I need you. I love you._ And then they are gone. Leaving Carol and I sitting on the ground. Dazed and relieved.

     Carol shrugs. Wipes away tears before she looks at me. I know she's glad Daryl's home. But, she wishes he was going off with her instead. I think her tears coming now are not for fear of losing Daryl to death, but because she knows, really knows in her heart now that she's lost him to my dad.

     It's awhile before I can collect myself. Me and Carol both. But, finally I stand and offer her a hand up. "I haven't been that scared since..." I don't say, since Mom...But, that's how much he means to me.

     Carol squeezes my fingers as she stands. Pulls me into a hug. "I'll take them some things," she sniffles into my hair. I know she means first aid stuff. Because, Daryl will let Dad look him over.

     I give them time. Time for Carol to deliver what all she took them. But, mostly time alone. To kiss. Or whatever it is they might need to do. Then I tip toe up to their cell as quiet as Papa taught me. It's my dad's cell and Daryl still keeps odds and ends in his. But, that's just for show. I know they stay together here.

     When the soft whispers quiet down I pull back the curtain. Just enough to watch them. Sitting on the bed together. Dad is holding Daryl. Rocking him. Kissing the top of his head. And when they finally pull back they are still clinging to eachother. And they both have tears in their eyes.

     "I can't lose you," Dad sobs. Really sobs. His whole body shuddering.

     Now Daryl is holding Dad. Wiping his tears with a dirty thumb. "Ain't never gonna lose me," he soothes. But, he's choked up. "I'll always come back ta ya." He pulls my dad to his chest. Tight. "Someone's gotta keep after yer skinny ass ta eat."

     Dad huffs out a snot filled laugh and sits up. This would be a good time to knock on the bars. Make my presence known. Or leave them in peace. But, I can't. I'm mesmerized by their tenderness. And I need to know Papa's okay. Really okay.

     "Let me have a look at you," Dad brushes Daryl's hair out of his face. Touches every part of it. Like he's reading Braille. Then he does the same with his lips. Gently kissing every part of his face.

      "Judy's sure sleepin' good," Daryl says absently. Letting Dad stroke his matted hair.

     Dad turns to her crib. Pinching the bridge of his nose. "She doesn't even know she almost lost..." And he can't even say it.

     "Hey," Daryl's voice with my dad is softer than I've ever heard. Like with Judith. "She didn't, you didn't," he cooed. Pulled Dad into his chest again. " 'M here."

     Dad took a deep breath. Sat up. "Let's make you presentable for her then," he twisted around to the tray Carol left. Dipped a sponge into water and wrung it out.  He dabbed it softly on Papa's face. "Where does it hurt?"

     "Ev'rywhere," Daryl whined. Like he only lets on to my dad. Because he trusts him. "But, not 'cuz 'm injured er nothin'. Jus' sore." And tired. He sounds so tired.

     Dad slowly, carefully wipes the sponge over Daryl's bare arms. Cleaning the dirt and blood. His movements are gentle. He wipes down each arm. Between each finger. Daryl's back is to me when Dad slips off his shirt to sponge him there. And I see them. The scars.

     My heart wrenches at the sight of them. Not because they're ugly. Just the thought of someone beating on Papa like that. When he's the kindest man. Like Dad is. And I wish they'd wash off with the mud and blood, because I can't bear to think of him hurt like that.

     Daryl groans a little and Dad stops. But, he must read Daryl, know it isn't serious. "Thought ya didn't want to be babied," he teased. Right into his ear.

     "Only by you," Daryl sassed. Kicked off his boots. Let Dad ease him onto the mattress and adjust the pillows. "M' baby c'n baby me all he wants," he tossed the second pillow in Dad's face.

     "Hey," Dad caught it. Put it back behind Daryl. Then he went for his belt. Slid his pants off. As intimate as it is I don't leave. It's not foreplay or anything like that. Just loving, looking after him. So I don't feel wierd about staying. But, if Dad makes a move for Daryl's boxers I'm gone. I don't care if they hear me.

     When Dad covers Daryl with the sheet to tuck him in I know I made the right call. "Food or sleep first?" He asks. Stroking his hair and cheek more.

     "Starvin'," Daryl mumbled. Sounding every bit as exhausted as he looked coming in the gate. "But, I jus' wanna be with you awhile."

     Dad kicks off his boots and jeans and climbs in. Settling next to Papa. Holding him. "Me, too," he hums into his ear.

     And that's how I leave them. Tangled in each other. Unable to tell where one ends and the other begins. Like always. And I make up my mind to do whatever I can to show them I'm ready. For the talk. Because, what they have is beautiful and shouldn't be hidden. What they have is love.


	2. Papa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some things come out...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was blown away by the kudos and comments for this little fic, so I thought I'd continue it. Hope this chapter doesn't disappoint.

     It's been two days since Daryl came back to us covered in blood. And they still haven't had the talk with me. More and more of Daryl's things have found their way into Dad's cell, though. And not just because he's been ordered to a couple days bed rest by my dad either. It makes me happy to see the few things Daryl calls his own neatly tucked away as if they belong there. Like he belongs there. With my dad. Because, he does.

     It's a game of mine. To spot what's new every time I visit. And I visit Papa a lot. I bring him interesting rocks and things from outside, because I know he gets cranky cooped up like that. So, today I also bring him a chocolate bar. Because, he's definitely at the pouting stage.

     I'm sitting on the bed with him as he breaks it in half. To share with me. He lets Judy lick some of it off his fingers, because of course Papa is holding her. That's when I see the book. His book. On the shelf with Dad's. In alphabetical order, because Dad still thinks shit like that's important. It has a place of permanence with my dad. Like Daryl.

     "Thanks, Kid," Daryl sets some of the Hershey bar aside on the nightstand. And I know that's the part he's saving for Dad. Because, everything they do is for eachother.

     I fiddle with a spot of melted chocolate on my jeans. Like a damn kid. "Maybe next time you go out I could come with you," I offer. I don't say to protect him even though I want to. Because, he's Daryl, and I know he can take care of himself. But, maybe I could be an extra set of eyes or...something.

     Daryl's fingers go straight to his mouth and I know he's chewing his thumb. Nervous. Not licking chocolate off. "You um..." He finally says. He's talking to me, but looking at Judith. "You called me somethin' the other day?" He's asking. Like he doesn't believe it. "At the fence."

     "Papa," I breathe it out. And it feels good to say it to his face. Because, I might not have his blood, but that's what he is to me. He doesn't flinch from it or screw up his face. He just turns as red as Dad's tomatoes and tugs my hat down over my eyes. Probably so I won't see the grin on his face.

     I just shrug and tell him, "Dad was already taken." And then he's hugging me. So hard it should hurt. But, it just makes me feel more a part of him.

     I only pull back, because Judy yanks my hair with chocolate fingers. And just like that my chance to talk is gone. Dad is coming through the curtain with a tray of food. He's trying so hard not to spill he's completely missed our moment. So, of course he interrupts.

     "I know this isn't squirrel or rabbit," Dad says as he puts the tray on the bedside table. Sloshing some kind of soup that looks suspiciously like little more than canned beans and every potato we grew and water. But, it does smell better. "But, it's the best I could do." He scoops up Judy and puts her in her crib. She doesn't even fuss, because Papa has already fed and changed her and put her in those stupid pink pajamas she loves so much.

     After Dad ruffles Judy's hair he passes us each a bowl and I move to the chair across the cell leaving room for him to sit next to Daryl. And we eat dinner together. As a family. Even though they won't fucking say it out loud that that's what we are.

     "Beth's been takin' real good care of the garden," Dad's stretched out sitting side by side with Daryl against the headboard. So close they could be glued together. Constantly brushing Papa's hair back from his face as he eats. Adjusting his pillows and stuff.

     " 'S killin' ya, ain't it?" Daryl slurps. Bumping Dad's shoulder. "Not bein' out there," he abandoned his spoon and drinks the last of his soup right from the bowl.

     Dad just huffs out a laugh. "Not half as much as its killin' you," he wipes a dribble of broth from Papa's chin and licks it off his thumb before catching himself. But, I don't say anything about it.

     "Ya gotta let me outta here, Grimes," Daryl whines. " 'M not yer prisoner," he sasses. But, there's no malice in it. " 'Sides," he huffs, but there's a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Yer gonna make me soft keepin' me here an' feedin' me too much." He pouted.

     Dad rolled his eyes. But, I can tell he's mesmerized by the way Daryl's folded his arms across his chest making his broad shoulders even broader. "I've fed you exactly three times a day," Dad counters when he can get his mouth to work. "How is that too much?"

     "Pff," Papa snorts so hard he blows his bangs away from his face. "More'n I'm used ta." He's full on pouting now. But, it's all for show. Their bickering isn't like Mom and Dad used to do. Fighting. This is more like...fore play or something.

     "Well, somebody's gotta keep after your skinny ass to eat," Dad uses one of Daryl's own lines on him. Like I overheard him say to Dad the other day.

     "Ya call that skin an' bones?" Daryl poked at his belly. And it was a little soft. Because, he'd filled out a little now we had a permanent home and supplies. And, because Dad was always making sure Papa didn't give his share away anymore.

     Dad patted Daryl's belly. "I call that healthy." He poured some of his soup into Papa's bowl. He didn't say anything. He just tilted his head to the side like when you shouldn't fuck with him.

     "Ya see what I gotta put up with?" Papa sassed. But, he slurped it up anyway. And I could see his foot under the covers rubbing against my dad's ankle.

     "At least he didn't try the airplane trick," I collect the dishes on the tray. "That never worked." Especially on creamed spinach. Who eats that shit, anyway?

     Daryl yawned and Dad was adjusting his pillows again. "Getting late," he cooed into Papa's ear. "I should put you to bed."

     "Ya gonna burp me, too?" Daryl smarted off like he was being babied too much. But, he loves when my dad fusses over him. I even caught him batting his eyes.

     "No," Dad swatted Daryl before getting up. "But, if you're good I'll read you a story." He skimmed the shelf. "Louis L'amour again?"

     "Yep," Daryl flopped down with a sigh. Burrowed under the covers. "Them damn westerns'll put me right out," he yawned again. "Thanks for the chocolate, Kid. Promise I'll get ya somethin' good 'f yer dad ever lets me outta here," he shot me a wink before closing his eyes.

     I bent down and hugged him. "Night, Papa," I said it as if I'd always called him that. Because, in my head I always had. Then I hugged Dad and headed for the kitchen with the tray. And if I left them with something to talk about, then maybe they'd talk to me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OMG they still haven't had the talk. I guess there is at least one more chapter in this thing...


	3. Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daryl talks to Carl. Sort of...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it has been so long since I updated this fic. Hope it is worth the wait.

     I can tell Carol loves Papa the same way I know my dad and Papa love each other. The blushing. The excuses to move in close and touch. Stuff like that. But, to her credit she doesn't try to force herself on Daryl. Not after she saw them at the gate. She told me if you love someone you just want them to be happy, even if that means letting them go.

     Mom said stuff like that all the time, too. And she did let Dad go. But, it wasn't 'cause she loved him. I think she just didn't care anymore. Or maybe she cared for Shane instead. I'm not dumb. And I'm certainly not deaf. I used to hear them in the tent together. Fooling around. When they thought I was asleep. Back before Dad found us at the quarry.

     I don't know much about sex or relationships, but I know what Dad and Daryl have is better. It's real. It's equal. It's love. And all I want is for them to be able to be open about it. Instead of hiding it from everyone. Hiding it from me.

     They think they're hiding it, anyway. I've been watching them trying to sneak extra food onto each other's plates all through dinner. Daryl pushing some of his meat onto Dad's plate every time he turns to answer another question from one of the new comers. Dad trying to give Daryl some of his share whenever he is distracted by Judith in her high chair. All while sitting thigh to thigh.

     My dad is leaned into Daryl's shoulder while he is hunched over his food. The smile on Daryl's face is hard to miss. Even at the other end of the table where I am to give them some privacy. From me anyway. There are people crowded all over. Even the Woodbury people have noticed that the only time Papa smiles is when he's with my dad. Or me and Judy. But, it's different with Dad.

     Dad presses his lips to Daryl's ear. The only one that can get that close. The only one Daryl trusts. Whatever he whispers makes Papa's face turn pink. Like when you compliment him, because he didn't grow up with any of that. He bows his head like he's afraid everyone knows what was said. Bumps shoulders with Dad. Glad of the words he breathed in his ear.

     And just like usual Dad snags Judy from her chair and leaves. Papa gives him a minute and heads out as well. Thinking he is unnoticed. I follow a few minutes later. Neither has gone to their cell and I'm looking around for clues to where they could be when I hear the distant echo of a door clanking shut.

     I peer out and see Daryl sitting crosslegged on the ground. By the markers we've put up for our dead. My heart squeezes at the memory of him covered in blood. The thought of having to put up a cross for him.

     He looks so small sitting there. Curled in on himself. Like a little boy waiting for his big brother. Who will never come back home. I don't know where my dad is, but I know he wouldn't leave Papa to sit alone. And neither can I.

     My steps are quiet as Papa taught me. But, he still hears me coming. Sits up straighter. And he's wiping his eyes when I sit down next to him. I take off my hat out of respect and fiddle with it on my lap. Unsure of how to comfort him. After losing Mom I know words don't really help. So I just scoot closer and put my head on his shoulder. He seems to settle at that.

     "You miss him, huh?" I finally speak. And I know it's a dumb thing to say, but I'm not good with words like Dad.

     Papa's quiet for so long I think he isn't going to talk. "Family," he finally croaks out. He leans his head down to lay it on mine. "But, he ain't the only family I got."

     And I know he means Dad. And me and Judy. "It helps to talk to them," I point at the crosses. "I talk to Mom a lot," I tell him. And it's true. I tell her all the things I wish I'd said when she was alive.

      The breeze picks up and Daryl shivers. He shrugs out from under me and slips off his vest. Drapes it over my shoulders. "Yer ma's the one I's talkin' ta," he pats my back before leaning back into me.

     "Really?" I ask. Because I can't imagine why. When I talk to her I'm usually apologizing. For shit I didn't do or shit I didn't say and should have.

     "I's confessin' somethin'," Daryl sighed. " 'Cuz I took somethin' from 'er that she left b'hind." Papa patted at his shirt pocket. Like maybe whatever it was was in there. And it was. Because he was talking about Dad. And touching his heart. "Wanted 'er ta know 'm gonna take real good care a...what I took."

     "Papa?" I'm calling him that all the time now. I can tell he likes it. "If she left it then you just rescued it," I tell him. And it's the truest thing I've ever said. "Mom had things she forgot how to appreciate." I squirm to look him in the eye. "I'm glad that you rescued," and I catch myself from saying 'Dad'. So I just say, "I'm glad it's yours now." I want to say, I'm glad you're ours now, too. But I don't.

     "Never meant ta steal it," Papa doesn't break eye contact. For a second it's like we're on the same page. Then he looks away again. All shy. Like he's afraid I figured it out.

     It's then Dad comes tromping up. Daryl's poncho rolled up under one arm and a bag in the other. "You two are gonna catch cold," he lets Papa take the bag while he spreads the poncho over us and joins us on the ground.

     "Rather catch this," Daryl pulls a half empty bottle of Jack Daniels out of the bag. Wiggles it at Dad.

     Dad wrestles the bottle back. Stuffs it back in. "Then you better behave."

     Daryl pulls a Kit Kat bar out of the bag and passes it to me with a wink. "When do I ever not behave?" He huffs.

     Dad rolls his eyes, but his lips are smiling. "Like when you sit out in the chill of night half naked," he prods Papa's bare arm.

     "It ain't even dark yet," Papa snorts. Stealing the bag to check what else is in there.

     I realize these things are for a date. Up in the guard tower we don't ever use. Probably to watch the sunset. Or something sappy like Glenn and Maggie are always doing up there. So I make my excuses to leave. But, after they've stood and turn to go I call them back.

     "Papa?" I slip the candy bar into his palm. "Some things you're just meant to have," I wrap his fingers around it with both my hands. "If only because you deserve them." With that I let them go off into the darkening night sharing the poncho. Hoping Papa understands.


End file.
